


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

by glorifiedscapegoat



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Proposals, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat
Summary: Nezumi had never imagined he’d buy a ring.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this head-canon post I made a few days ago on Tumblr: "Shion and Nezumi are totally the types of people who would end up proposing to each other on the same day."

Nezumi had never imagined he’d buy a ring.

When the thought first came to him in the dead of night, he’d immediately shoved it aside as nonsense. A sleepy thought that drifted into his cerebral cortex and would vanish with the rising sun. He’d burrowed into his blankets and listened to the comforting sound of Shion snoring softly beside him as he drifted off to sleep.

But morning hadn’t erased the thought. In fact, each passing day only seemed to increase its intensity. He began to daydream about possible colors and shapes. He started contemplating the best times to go window shopping, the shops that might have the best variety.

Before Nezumi knew it, September seventh had crept up on him. Birthday gifts had always been a point of stress for Nezumi. He wasn’t good at gift-giving. He’d managed to pull something impressive out of his hat last year: a simple mug with a purple flower on the side.

It seemed so minuscule in comparison to his sudden return―Nezumi doubted he’d ever be able to top that―but Shion loved it all the same. He’d kissed Nezumi on the lips, thanked him, and spent the rest of the day grinning like an idiot.

It hadn’t been anything that impressive, Nezumi thought, but Shion’s reaction to it had warmed his heart all the same.

By all accounts, Shion wasn’t difficult to shop for. He didn’t care for extravagance. He enjoyed simplicity, and Nezumi’s little gestures meant the world to him. Be it waking up a bit early to start a pot of coffee, coming home a few minutes early to help with dinner, or holding Shion’s hand on the way to the supermarket―these small gestures never failed to make Shion smile for the rest of the day, so full of light that he better resembled the sun.

Shopping for a suitable present shouldn’t have been difficult. Shion’s twenty-third birthday wasn’t any different than his twenty-first or his twenty-second.

Except, in many ways, it was.

It marked exactly eleven years since Shion and Nezumi’s fates had become intertwined. Seven years since destiny brought them back together, and another four since Nezumi had breezed back into his life, planted roots and remained stationary with no intention of leaving.

Shion’s twenty-first had been special in that they used it to officially become an item. In reality, their actual relationship had begun years prior, in the midst of chaos and desperation, but the night of Shion’s twenty-first birthday was the night Nezumi decided to stop running from it.

That night, Shion had pulled him close and kissed him again and again until the sun rose over the horizon. September eighth had been spent laying in bed, sleep-deprived and drunk on happiness, but Nezumi wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

It had been two years since that night. Two years of welcome home kisses, goodnight hugs, nightmares that were met with words of comfort, and simple gestures out in public. There had been an appropriate adjustment period following Nezumi’s return, where they relearned each other’s quirks and nuances before deciding that _yes_ , they did want to spend the rest of their lives together.

Two years of having a _boyfriend_. Nezumi had never imagined himself as someone who would be surrounded by labels, but he didn’t mind. His four years on the road after the fall of No.6 had changed him, assuring him that it was okay to love and be loved in return.

When the idea of getting a ring finally solidified in Nezumi’s mind, he tried to talk himself into making it a promise ring. Something plain with a flowery meaning that Shion would cling to and tell Nezumi he loved.

The intended message would be a simple, but powerful one: _I came back to you because I want to be with you_.

Except… a promise ring didn’t feel like enough.

The decision to get a ring had been the easy part. Locating the perfect one had been another beast altogether.

When Shion was at work during Nezumi’s days off from the theater, he’d flocked to several different stores. He ignored the knowing glances from the store clerks, searching through diamonds and obstinate golden bands. He left disappointed each time. All the viable options within his price range were too flashy or too ugly.

The perfect one had appeared in a little section of what was once Kronos.

It was a simple silver band. The ring had stood out like a beacon when Nezumi found it at the farthest corner of the little shop. It was by no means the prettiest thing in the store, but the plain silver band spoke to Nezumi in ways the others hadn’t. Fate seemed to want him to have it.

It just so happened to be on sale―a bonus―and Nezumi left with it safely tucked away in his leather jacket while the store clerk, a short old woman with kind eyes, waved at him from the window.

It’d practically burned a hole in his pocket the whole week leading to Shion’s birthday.

On the morning of Shion’s twenty-third birthday, Nezumi tried to rein in his excitement. He kissed Shion in the morning, gave him a soft “Good morning”, and felt his heart swell with love when Shion sleepily smiled back at him.

After deciding to get a ring, Nezumi had considered gathering an audience, too, but quickly decided against it. The night they met eleven years ago in the storm had been a private moment between just the two of them. Their last reunion eight years later had also been private. And if he was being totally honest, Nezumi didn’t feel like sharing this moment with anyone.

He’d made no mention of his true intentions, despite frequent goading from Inukashi, inquiries from Baby Shionn about when he and Shion would get married, and a few murderous glares from Rikiga.

When he visited the bakery in the days leading up to Shion’s birthday, Karan looked at him with an almost knowledgeable smile, as if she’d read his mind and saw exactly what he had planned. Nezumi would never understand how mothers did it.

She ushered them rather quickly through Shion’s birthday dinner and sent them on their way home shortly after the sun had set.

They sat on the couch in their small apartment—a little two-bedroom on the second floor, with big windows and sunny curtains and just enough space for them to feel comfortable in the absence of the bunker they’d called home seven years ago.

Nezumi was suddenly overcome with a rush of nerves. He considered shoving the ring into the back of the closet the next time Shion got up to get a glass of water.

He could do it next year.

It didn’t _have_ to happen now.

Nezumi shoved his nerves aside. If he talked himself out of it now, he’d always find some excuse again in the future. Shion didn’t deserve excuses. Shion had saved his life eleven years ago. Shion had saved him time and time again in the decade that followed. Nezumi wouldn’t have become the man he was today―sitting comfortably on a couch in an apartment he owned with the man he loved―if not for Shion.

Shion deserved so much more than waiting and silent assurances.

Nezumi looked at him, curled on the other end of the couch. No matter what time of day it was, no matter what state of mind Nezumi found himself in, Shion was always beautiful. His soft silver hair had grown just a bit longer over the summer months; it was nearly time for a haircut. He’d dressed into his pajamas―a blue flannel shirt that belonged to Nezumi and a pair of sweatpants―and he was the most amazing thing Nezumi had ever seen.

Shion started to reach for something in the drawer beside him, and Nezumi blurted, “I have something for you,” at the same time Shion said, “Nezumi, I—”

Silence lanced between them. Shion looked back at Nezumi, his cheeks flushed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Nezumi’s heart hammered in his chest. The ring had become a weight in his pants pocket. He hadn’t changed into his nightclothes yet.

Shion pulled his hand back and said, “Um, you first.”

“OK.” Nezumi shoved his hands into his pockets. His finger ran across the soft velvet of the box. His tongue felt heavy as he said, “It was a bit of a struggle to figure out the perfect thing to get you. I mean, it’s been eleven years.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Shion said gently. “I already have everything I could ever want.”

Nezumi’s heart stuttered. He took a steadying breath and said, “I know. But there’s a bit more to it than that. We’ve known each other for eleven years, Shion. That’s a hell of a lot longer than I thought I’d ever get to know, well, anyone. I wanted to find the best way to let you know just how much you mean to me.”

Shion blushed.

Nezumi steadied himself, steeled his nerves, and pulled the box out of his jacket pocket.

Shion’s eyes widened as Nezumi opened it, revealing the simple silver band nestled between the blue velvet.

That morning, he’d made up some flowery speech in his head, rehearsing it over and over until he had it down perfectly. Paragraph upon paragraph of what he’d say to Shion when he finally did it. Poetry about how wonderful Shion was, how the world was a brighter place because he lived in it, how Nezumi had never felt whole until Shion came into his life.

That speech died in his throat the moment Nezumi looked at Shion. The gesture was more than enough. The sight of the ring box sitting in the palm of his hand, the assurances behind it and the truth behind its existence said more than enough.

“I’m kind of tired,” Nezumi went on, “so I’d prefer not to get on one knee, but I will if you want.”

Shion stared down at the box. Nezumi’s blood sang with anxiety. The longer Shion stared at the ring, the more the rejection began to wash over him. It was way too soon. Nezumi had misinterpreted Shion’s feelings for him. With all the romantic words and gentle gestures, Nezumi had thought this was what Shion wanted.

He’d thought this was what they _both_ wanted—

And then Shion started laughing.

He doubled over, trying to stifle the sound with his hands. Nezumi’s stomach clenched, frustration punching through him. His fingers trembled around the box, burning to throw it back into his pocket or onto the ground between them and just disappear. If the ground had opened between them and swallowed him whole in that instant, it would be better than sitting here, listening to Shion laugh at him, listening to the sound of his world falling apart.

“Wait, wait―” Shion said, seeing Nezumi’s expression. He held a finger up, choking on his laughter. He twisted back to the end table beside the couch, pulled the drawer open, and produced another small blue velvet box. It was small and almost insignificant to the untrained eye, but to Nezumi, it shone as if Shion had plucked the moon from the heavens.

Silence stretched between them. Nezumi stared at the box in Shion’s hands as the weight of the situation fell around them. Only them. Something like this would only happen to them. Nezumi’s stomach still hurt as if someone had landed a blow to it, but this time, he welcomed the feeling. It gave him something to ground himself as a wave of happiness surged around him.

“Well, then,” Nezumi said, his voice trembling. “I guess we have our answers.”

“I suppose we do,” Shion murmured back. He cradled the ring box in his hands, then slowly lifted his head and gave Nezumi a mischievous smile. “You don’t have to get down on one knee, but I’d still like to hear you say it.”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow.

“It _is_ my birthday,” Shion added.

Nezumi exhaled. “Fair enough.” He edged forward, the world bleeding around him. His vision tunneled until he couldn’t see anything except the silver-haired man sitting in front of him. His love. His Shion. The one Nezumi would always return to. His heart swelled with love as he lifted the box between them and held it like an offering.

“Shion,” he said, “will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Shion whispered, and the anxiety vanished. Shion reached out to take the ring, his hand trembling, and Nezumi helped guide it out of the box and onto his finger.

It fit perfectly—their hands were similar enough in size that Nezumi hadn’t worried about the ring fitting him—and once it was there, it was like a key twisting inside a lock.

Shion trembled, but lifted his own ring box between them. He carefully opened it, giving Nezumi a peek into what he’d picked out. It was another silver band, plain and perfect, a mirror image to the one Nezumi had picked out.

Nezumi stifled a laugh, wondering if he and Shion had bought them at the same shop, too. How many days apart had they come inside, and had the clerk known and simply watched them with a knowing smirk?

“And you,” Shion murmured. “Will you marry me, Nezumi?”

Nezumi’s heart stuttered at the words, but he masked it beneath a smile. “Be a bit awkward if I said ‘no’ now, wouldn’t it?”

Shion blinked at him.

“Yes,” Nezumi said. He reached forward, cupped Shion’s cheek, and held him. “Yes, Shion.”

The smile on Shion’s face could have lit up the world. He helped guide the ring onto Nezumi’s finger. Once it settled there, he intertwined their fingers, and Nezumi leaned forward. Their foreheads pressed together, the world around them still and quiet. Never in his life had Nezumi imagined a happiness like this. This wonderful boy―who’d thrown open his window and welcomed Nezumi with open arms―felt the same way Nezumi did. The stars had aligned in the most perfect way possible, every possible path guiding them back to each other.

Shion exhaled and murmured, “I love you.”

Nezumi closed his eyes and whispered it back.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see some more awesome No.6 content and other random nonsense, come hang out with me on Tumblr: **https://glorifiedscapegoat.tumblr.com/**


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